John's Fateful Fall
by macgyvershe
Summary: One shot. When John is seriously injured, Sherlock must cope.


**John's fateful fall**

**One shot**

"Strange that lives can be turned upside down within the span of a moment, so very strange, John."

Sherlock looked down upon the still form in the hospital bed. Lit for night, the hospital room smelled of antiseptic cleaner, with an underlain stench of pervasive death.

Sherlock had wanted John to be home with him where he could care for him, but his sister had vetoed that. He had little say in John's care, this rankled Sherlock to the extreme. John's sister was a dyed-in-the-wool alcoholic who'd been John's least favorite relative. Yet she was in charge of John's fate. Sherlock sat next to John's bed; had been there for days keeping vigil, where she came only once or twice a week. He held John's hand, aching to hear his voice, to see him wake from his deep coma.

"We've been up against murderers, madmen, gigantic drug induced hounds, terrorist cells, traitors, criminal organizations and corporate thugs, John," Sherlock's voice broke with sadness, "and you are broken by a simple fall, John."

_[Sherlock had sent John out to run an errand for him and as John hurried down the stairs, he'd called out to John again. "John, one more thing." Sherlock remembered he had heard John hit the squeaky stair then there was the clatter as John fell down several steps to the entry way. He'd known immediately that John had suffered severe injury as Mrs. Hudson had screamed for help. John lay in an ever increasing pool of his own blood.]_

Now, John lay in the hospital bed so quiet and still. Sherlock, for the first time in his life felt pain. Mycroft had said that feelings, hearts and love were all disadvantages. That cold logic and rational intelligence were all that really mattered. How wretchedly wrong he was.

Tears formed at the edges of Sherlock's eyes. He let them fall, no thought to stop them in their downward flight. John's life was everything. What a fool he'd been, so cavalier in his interactions with the one man in his life who had changed him forever.

There was the public outpouring of financial concern for the world famous blogger. An on-line fund was started for John's welfare. Thousands of dollars poured in, tens of thousands of dollars…nearly three quarters of a million was raised over night and it was still coming. It was then that Harriet came barreling in; taking control of John and the immense wealth that was dedicated to his care.

Sherlock was banded from seeing John. Court orders were served. Sherlock raged at the impudence of the git of a woman. She should never have crossed Sherlock. Within hours and with the assistance of a top notch forger, Sherlock produced a documented power of attorney that John had 'signed' years ago entrusting his life to the gentle ministrations of one Sherlock Holmes.

John remained in a coma, Sherlock moved him back to his room, along with his hospital bed, monitors and all the paraphernalia necessary to sustain him. Sherlock was driven; taking over much of John's day to day care, only allowing Mrs. Hudson and Molly and a few other hand-picked medical personal to help him.

Of course, Baker Street became a veritable international news hot spot. With news persons hanging out 24/7 for any word on Dr. John Watson, crime fighter, blogger and friend to the Boffin Tec detective Sherlock Holmes. The blaring lights, cameras and detailed attention slowly faded, as inside the walk-up life went on, day by day. Sherlock read John everything he could find on head trauma, comas and mind activity in such states. He played his violin. He talked incessantly to fill up John's world with words and stimulus. He even brought issues of 'Nuts' and exhaustively described the bevy of buxom beauties that capered across the pages.

Sherlock's slender frame became gaunt almost skeletal, yet his energy levels burned bright. And always Sherlock kept John safe from his sister and the encroaching world.

"I do believe that we should urge Sherlock to hire more staff," Mrs. Hudson confided in Molly as they had tea together in Mrs. Hudson's flat.

"I agree he's working so very hard. Don't get me wrong, John is getting better care here than he would anywhere else, but Sherlock can only do so much before he ruins his own health."

"Who will make him listen," Mrs. Hudson queried?

"John is the only one who could hold his own with Sherlock," Molly countered.

In John's room Sherlock sat in a comfortable chair. He'd laid his head on John's bed with one hand on John's rib cage. This was his normal cat nap position. Any change in John's breathing pattern would register in his fingertips long before the monitors caught hold.

"Sherlock?" A disused voice brought Sherlock to instant awareness.

"John," there was elation in Sherlock's voice.

"Water?" John requested.

Sherlock got up and helped John sip some water.

"Sherlock, you look like crap. Why's there a hospital bed in my room?" Then as John scanned the room he realized that he had been under acute medical care.

Molly called for John's attending physician. The flat became a riot of activity, but Sherlock remained at John's side throughout it all. He looked tired and more ethereal than John remembered.

Within a span of a month John was up and about; his old strength and color returning. Sherlock was quiet and didn't rattle around the flat complaining of boredom at all.

"Are you okay, Sherlock? This quiet meditative you is something new."

Sherlock looked at John over his steppled hands, his milky blue eyes bright with energy.

"I nearly lost you, John and it reset my priorities. I still long for the mysteries, solving the case, but I know you are the most important part of my life. I'm enjoying being home with you."

"Well all this is about to change," John said with a smile.

"How so," Sherlock looked interested?

"For starters the 1.2 million pounds raised by our fans is going to Doctors without Borders, minus a small amount that will stay in a join account for our rainy-day funds."

John handed Sherlock a legal portfolio.

"The papers that you forged, these are for real. You are executor of my estate and in charge of my affairs should I become incapacitated. My alcoholic sister is not coming between us again. Ever."

"And lastly, Greg called repeatedly over the past week. We are going to start taking cases again. I have to have something to blog about. Our fans are getting restless."

"John, you are not ready to return to work yet and I won't go out without you." Sherlock was not going to be moved on that matter.

"Well then, here we have the latest gadgets," John produced several new tablets. "With these I will be with you in real time anywhere on the planet. Once my recovery is complete I will rejoin you out in the field, but until then I will be only a bandwidthaway. Now I've got people coming in to add antennae and dishes to the roof. So when they get here, you are taking me out to lunch at a posh and paparazzi free environment." John said with a whimsical smile on his face.

"My word, you have been quite busy, John. So I'm to understand that we are going out on a date?"

"Yeah, were two people go out and have a good time together? Yes, we are going to do that and quite frequently until we get a little bit more meat on your bones. I don't know if I ever thanked you, Sherlock, for taking such good care of me when I needed you."

"You are most welcome, John." Sherlock stood reached for John and pulled him into a warm hug. "People will talk."

"They always do," John answered. "And we will give those wagging tongues something to talk about. He reached for Sherlock's great coat handing it to him and put on his own jacket.

"We will become the tongue wagging patrol as we go to Angelo's." John said happily as they exited the flat, John began to sing a bawdy tune that he had taught Sherlock from his military days. They sang in harmony; all was right with the world.


End file.
